Notes of Survival
by epitomeoffangirls
Summary: Hermione is on the run from the Death Eaters but who is sending the notes that give away their every move? Why can't she survive without them?
1. Chapter 1

**Notes of Survival **

**Hi. This is my very first fic, so if I could just ask you please not to hate but constructive criticism is always appreciated. I'm afraid that I cannot yet divulge to you what the ship of this story is but it shall come in time, Girl Guide's honour. Please enjoy, this is very short but there will be more to come once I have the nerve to post it.**

**Disclaimer: This world and the characaters in it belong to JK Rowling. I am just borrowing them.**

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Hermione Granger had been on the Dark Lord's most wanted list for over a year now and his Ministry had failed to find her. This time, he was sending out his very own Death Eaters and if someone attempted to help her in any way, then hell would be to pay.

Hermione had been on the run for what felt like decades. She was constantly moving, avoiding the Ministry that had her face blaring from every street wall.

It had been months since she had had contact with any of her old friends, and it felt like forever since an owl came to her to bring her news. The first time one of her notes came through she was surprised beyond belief! And it had arrived through the muggle post; there was no denying the overly-detailed address written on the front of the envelope that gave away an inexperienced wizard in the muggle field.

It contained only one sentence: 'The Death Eaters are coming; run.'


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey there. Welcome to the second installment of Notes of Survival! I just want to give a huge thank you to my first reviewer and closest friend who I love loads (even though you attempted to steal my fic book when I wasn't there)! Again please no hate but constructive criticisms are much appreciated! **

**Disclaimer: all characaters etc belong to JK Rowling. I am just borrowing her stuff.**

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Last time: The note contained only one sentence 'The Death Eaters are coming; run.'

Now: at first it was entirely impossible to believe. Hermione had ensured that she had been made entirely unplottable to the whole of the wizarding world, so what was this note doing sitting in front of her? Self doubt was not a feeling Hermione enjoyed and as she sat and thought about how she was found, it suddenly dawned on her.

Death Eaters

Coming

Run

She ran. She packed her beaded bag in a matter of seconds, using spells illegally to make it faster. She usually tried to avoid using magic in case it could somehow be traced, but now was not the time for caution.

Hermione disapparated and found herself outside the burrow. She remembered how she had been thinking of what life would have been like had Voldemort not taken over.

She often thought about her old friends. She loved Harry more than anybody else in the world, so when he walked away into the forbidden forest on that fateful night she had had full confidence that he would come bounding out of there alive and healthy having left the Dark Lord's body to rot. Of course when Voldemort emerged from the forest with Hagrid behind him, Harry's limp body draped heavily over his arms, Hermione's world collapsed.

Without Harry, there was no point in continuing any of the trio's adventures or even sticking around so she fled. Of course it was difficult to leave behind Ron, Ginny and everybody else but since all romantic prospects between her and Ron had been killed with her best friend, she just didn't see the point.

To stand in front of the Burrow now felt surreal and Hermione felt faintly nostalgic remembering all the memories she shared with this building. Of course nobody inside had seen her for nearly three years, and yet the search for her on Potterwatch was going strong.

She had disappeared for their own good. Voldemort was determined to obliterate all muggleborns and the Weasleys were lucky he had spared them with their being blood traitors. It would not do for her to enter the house. She would put them all in grave danger, especially now that she knew she was being tracked. Life was going to become a lot more difficult.

She firmly turned her back on what was once her home from Hogwarts and marched firmly towards the local muggle village. It was getting late and maybe she could stay there for the night.

After getting settled into her room above the village pub Hermione got to work on finding out exactly what was giving her away. none of her books contained what she was looking for, so she put it down to mispronunciation of spells and cast them all again, hoping that any magic detected would be blamed on local wizards.

The next morning at breakfast Hermione was infuriated to find that she had been sent another note. It said

'_Your spells won't work. You need a new book. Knockturn Alley, 3pm today. Be there if you want to survive the week.'_


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello and welcome to instalment three of Notes of survival. Can I please give a humongous thanks to emily. j. the .strange (I know there aren't any spaces there but for some reason it won't let me out your real user name...) for favouriting this as well as following alongside Merlissa Rika Black who also reviewed. Also much appreciation to PheonixTears1001 who also reviewed and invited me to read their fic. Which was pretty cool.**

**Please no hate, but i live off of constructive criticisms so please feel free to give some. I will try to reply to all reviews ASAP but please don't be impatient if it takes a while with time zones etc.**

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Last time:'_Your spells won't work. You need a new book. Knockturn Alley, 3pm today. Be there if you want to survive the week.'_

Now: This time the note came as less of a shock. Besides, she knew there was something fishy going on with her spells. Just imagine, her! Mis-casting a spell! The Chudley Canons were more likely to with 10 leagues in a row than for Hermione to make a mistake.

She shook her head and mounted the stairs to her room. Last night's Potterwatch broadcast had told her that the Death Eaters had raided a muggle town in the west of Wales. Exactly where she was when the first note came through.

It was evident that whoever was sending the notes had infinite knowledge of the a Dark Lord's plans as well as how to stop them. It therefore seemed very logical to trust them and go to Knockturn Alley that afternoon, but she would have to be very well disguised.

Knockturn Alley had moved away from its Death Eater theme and now sported a far tougher, intimidating approach. However, Hermione knew that among all the new tattoo parlours and men's clubs Borgin and Burkes was still there with it's many treasures and illegal artefacts.

As Hermione pondered its existence, she sat in front of the floor length mirror on the wall and started to change her appearance and little by little she became entirely unrecognisable.

Her now less bushy, brown hair lengthened and became smooth and ash blonde. Her dark eyes lightened and turned emerald green. This is something she always did when she changed her look. It was her tribute to the time she cast the stinging jinx on Harry to make him look like he had a head made of tennis balls.

She smiled at the memory as she cast some new clothes to fit her changed body (now small and athletic instead of tall and curved). She packed her things into her bag and looked out of the window. She thought that she could just about see the top of the Weasley's orchard. Thanking for their safety, she disapparated and arrived in Diagonal Alley.

The very centre of the wizarding world.

hermione breathed steadily, trying to calm herself as she tried to steer her way through the bustling crowds. From what she could muster from the conversations of passers by it appeared as though 'The Lord' as they were now meant to refer to him as was making some sort of speech nearby.

It's funny, she thought, that I should be asked to this area on the day that Voldemort was making a speech. She put it down to coincidence and hurried on trying not to look at the shop windows.

After the Dark Lord's uprising the dark arts had taken over entirely which wasn't exactly a surprise. What was surprising, however, was that everybody seemed to love it! The Lord was treated as a major celebrity and as he preached a muggle and mudblood free world, Hermione couldn't help but think that it was all a bit Animal Farm.

Posters, statues and memorabilia of The Lord glared out of every shop window and apparently it was now wizarding law to have at least one piece of memorabilia as a main arroom feature (although Hermione couldn't help but think it was just a rumour).

As she turned the corner into Knockturn Alley, Hermione could hear the cheers of the crowds. Evidently Voldemort's speech had begun. She exhaled, set her shoulders and marched firmly on into the depths of the alley.

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**Thanks for reading! I'll try and update again soon, maybe even tomorrow. I would like to point out that I do not own Animal Farm either, that reference belongs to George Orwell.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello again! Welcome to Notes of Survival part four. Thanks to Violet Granger for reviewing and to MinervaLover1234 for adding this to favourites. Also thanks to sweet-tang-honney for following and favouriting and Pansy pugface for following. It has been pointed out to me that my chapters are pretty short, but I think I'm going to keep it that way for the time being as I am posting quite frequently.**

**Remember to review and again can I ask that there is no hate but constructive criticisms are much appreciated!**

**Disclaimer: all characters etc belong to JK Rowling, I am just borrowing her stuff.**

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Last time:As she turned the corner into Knockturn Alley, Hermione could hear the cheers of the crowds. Evidently Voldemort's speech had begun. She exhaled, set her shoulders and marched firmly on into the depths of the alley.

Now: There was noone to be seen. It was eerie, walking down such a burly looking place and finding it entirely empty. Everyone must have been at The Lord's event.

Hermione felt a chill run down her spine, it felt as though someone was watching her. She looked around and saw not a soul. As she turned back to continue forward she jolted.

Standing only two foot away was a figure clad entirely in black with a large hooded cloak covering up his face. Hermione could tell he was a man from the way he stod before.

The man raised his hand and touched her face. His skin was pale and his fingers were ice cold. On his middle he wore a family ring but it was impossible to tell what was on the crest. Evidently this man came from good, pureblood stock.

He lowered his hand from Hermione's cheek, giving her goosebumps. he reached inside his robes and suddenly she felt a great sense of foreboding as if he were about to pull out his wand and attack her.

Hermione braced herself, waiting for the offence to cime but from out of his robes the man produced not a wand but a package with a heavy looking parchment envelope on top.

The man handed her the package and in a swish of black robes he had disappeared entirely. She looked down at the package lying heavily in her palms and noticed that the envelope was addressed directly to Miss H.J. Granger. it was evident that someone had bothered to do their homework if they knew enough about her to include her full name on the cover of an envelope.

She knew it was far too dangerous to stay here in the middle of wizarding society with such a huge event going on nearby. Even with her disguise on that man, whoever he may have been, knew exactly who she was.

She decided that it was time to unpack the tent and get camping again. Winter had just passed and the weather was getting considerably warmer plus Voldemort had given the orders for his snatchers to retreat.

There was a day not too long before the summer past when the last of the mudbloods had been disposed of. The Lord held a big ceremony that the whole of the pureblood aristocracy attended in which he cruelly slaughtered the last of Hermione's kind excluding her. By the end of the day the Dark Lord had stood in a pool of blood, mounds of bodies including that of Dean Thomas and many other of her old Hogwarts friends.

She shuddered violently at the memory and disapparated away.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hello once again. Welcome to Notes of Survival chapter five. I know that the last chapter was very short but I may or may not have fallen asleep in the middle of writing it... So i just ended it early. I'm not sure where all the morbidity came from (it was probably because I had just finished binge watching some Buffy) but I'll try to make this one a bit nicer. Maybe attempt some emotional bits, I can't decide.**

**Anyways thanks goes out to Shotgungirl2015 for following, favouriting and reviewing, twibe for following and to my anonymous guest reviewer, please remember to review with no hate but plenty of constructive criticism is always valued.**

**Disclaimer: all characters etc belong to JK Rowling, I am just borrowing her stuff.**

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Last time: She shuddered violently at the memory and disapparated away.

Now: After getting the tent set up and the usual wards around her clearing in the forest of Dean, Hermione sat down in an armchair and picked up the package.

It was wrapped in brown paper an tied up with manky looking string. The envelope addressed to Miss H.J. Granger lay tucked under the string, desperately waiting to be opened.

It seemed odd that such a package was wrapped so ordinarily, as though the man who had given it to her saved lives simply as a hobby. hobby or not, Hermione was still exceptionally grateful to him for even bothering to show up.

She carefully slit the envelope open, noticing that the wax had no seal. Evidently the man didn't want to be recognised as a member of whatever family name was represented on the ring he had been wearing.

Inside the envelope lay one thick piece of parchment. Hermione gently removed it and unfolded it to see the same elegant script from the previous notes. The note read:

'_Hermione,_**_  
_**

_I'm sorry for my previous notes being so brief. I had to make sure it really was you I was sending them to. It obviously is you if you're reading this, so thank you for coming to Knockturn Alley to meet me._

_Inside the package you will find volumes 1-7 of the Standard Book of Spells written by Miranda Goshawk. This particular selection of books may come as a surprise to you, but I have made some changes, a bit like what the my ex housemaster did to his old potions book that your friend came across._

_Believe it or not, since I'm guessing you have now figured out what house I was in at Hogwarts, I was sorry for the death of Harry Potter. He was my last ray of hope for being free of my Death Eater family forevermore._

_That is of course until I realised you were still free And that only I could help you to survive. You are my freedom Hermione and I refuse to let you go to waste. You alone can now defeat my master, and you alone shall do it._

_We shall see each other once more, and I hope this time with love and joy instead of the contempt and suspicion our houses showed each other at school._

_You will hear from me again soon.'_

Hermione read the note several times. It was obvious that it had been written in a hurry just from the shoddy paragraphing and sentence structuring alone.

Her radio suddenly sprang to life with static and that meant only one thing.

Potterwatch.

Hermione enjoyed listening to Potterwatch and it was great to hear Ron and everyone else's voices once in a while, but it was hard. They always had an entire section of the show dedicated to her, hoping she was still alive and sometimes reporting sightings (none of them being valid).

Every time a show finished Hermione hated herself for putting her friends through the pain they were very clearly going through as they begged for her to contact them. It was torture but she never missed a single show because Harry wouldn't have missed any if he were in her position. Harry was her primary motivation for everything it seemed nowadays.

She tapped the old radio with her wand and whispered the password 'library'. The password had always been something to do with her for the past year or so. She was surprised they hadn't changed the name of the show to 'Grangerwatch'.

'Good day to you sane members of the wizarding world who are not infatuated with the merciful Lord Voldemould.' Came Ron's voice from the radio.

'I'm afraid it is only me, Ratty, and Royal here at Potterwatch today but don't worry we'll get just as much into the show. First up today, The Lord made a speech earlier on today in Diagon Alley about an unknown subject. Well, that is until he made the speech because, erm, after it was, erm, pretty obvious...' His voice trailed off awkwardly. This usually happened frequently on Ron's shows. He was not cut out for the radio.

'Anyways! Where was I... Ah yes Snoredemorts speech. He basically bullsh-'

'Ratty' came Kingsley's slow, deep voice 'language.'

'Right you are Royal! Yeah, he blabbered - that better? - on for a minute or two about how much he appreciated the support of the wizarding world and how hard he works for each and every one of them which is just about as real as Hermione is dead. Which she is not.'

He often slipped in little things like that about her. It made her feel awful.

'And then he went on to talk about our lady Hermione. She's famous!'

She jerked her head up. The Lord had organised a huge rally in the centre of wizarding public just to talk about her? And she had been there? Her mystery man may say he wants to help her but inviting her to Knockturn alley today... He must have known!

'Basically what he said was that he wanted her turned in because she is the last muggle born associated with the Order of the Phoenix still alive which caused the crowd to boo and hiss. He went on a bit more about Dumbledore which made them boo and hiss even more and then put a price on Hermione's head.'

'Hermione, if you are listening, you are worth one hundred thousand Galleons. So please just stay safe, trust nobody but yourself and come back to me - come back to us - soon. We miss you so much and we know that you are out there somewhere. Be safe. And now over to Royal who will inform you on what our Lord is screwing up next.'

Hermione knew that she should listen to Royal's bit on the new government but she was too distracted.

One hundred thousand Galleons. That was worth more than Harry when he was Undesirable no 1. She got up and switched off the radio.

She was furious. The life of Hermione Granger was not worth a penny compared to the life of Harry Potter and she would show that to them.

She picked up her new book and sat in her armchair. It was time to do what Hermiones do best. Read.


	6. Chapter 6

**Bonjour grosse frites and welcome to Notes of Survival chapter six. No thank yous today, but a shout out to theemotionalrangeofateaspoon (my best friend) who is writing THE GREATEST CHUDLEY FIC EVER WOO GO FRIEND! If you have not yet read it yet you are missing out like big time. Siriusly.**

**Anywys once you have finished reading please remember to review and honestly tell me what you think with constructive criticisms, no hate please! Please just bear in mind that it's my very first fic so give me plenty of things I can improve on for future stories!**

**Also it was pointed out to me that there was an error in the spelling of Knockturn Alley at the end of chapter two (my autocorrect put it in automatically) so that has been amended and thanks to the reviewer who informed me of it.**

**Disclaimer: all characters etc belong to JK Rowling I am just borrowing her stuff.**

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Last time:She picked up her new book and sat in her armchair. It was time to do what Hermiones do best. Read.

Now: And that is exactly what she did. She read all the way Through the sunset, hardly noticing the tent awash with bright orange and shadows of leaves and into the night as she was covered by a blanket of darkness. It took her a while to realise that she was straining her eyes as it got darker but she simply conjured up her famous blue flames and read by the softly flickering flame sitting neatly in the palm of her hand.

The so-called 'friend' from the letter was right. It was exactly like the Half Blood Prince's old potions text book but with altered wrist movement and different ways to move the lips and tongue while casting. It never failed to bewilder Hermione just how delicate the balance of magic was and how much power it contained.

She had to admit, it was a long read. The process of undoing everything she had ever learned about spells and re-learning it slightly differently was tricky even for her but by the end she reckoned she had it.

The section on protective charms from volume seven, the one she had never learned in class was her main concern. The notes in the margin told her that in order to make herself entirely undetectable to muggles she had to extend the 'ell' in 'repellum muggleton' since sometimes particularly stubborn muggles were able to break through the enchantments.

Her powers were a little rusty from living her muggle life for so long and her spells were not what they used to be. It was infuriating. So, she decided, she'd attemp one modified spell tonight, then two tomorrow night and so on. Of course the muggle repelling charm wouldn't keep out the Death Eaters but she had a feeling the cloaked man would help her out there.

There was something tugging as the back of her mind about him. Maybe her inquiry skills were a bit rusty but she knew him from somewhere. It was just his build and the way he held himself. And the way he touched her face. And how soft his skin was... But now was not the time for daydreaming. He is simply an asset to me she told herself firmly as she marched out of the tent and prepared to cast.

'Repellum Muggleton!' She cried, making sure to correct her pronunciation. The effects were astounding. There was a huge rush of wind circling around and around and around the small clearing in which she stood. Had something gone wrong? Had she started a mini hurricane?

Just as she began to feel the gentle nags of panic settling into her head it stopped. Everything was entirely still. Had it worked? She couldn't be sure until an actual muggle came across this part of the forest.

She decided to head back to the tent, this time with a spring in her step. She was exhausted but it was so worth it.

As she got comfortable in her armchair there was only one thought on her mind. I'm back.


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